


Angels Unawares

by riverlight



Category: Austin & Murry-O'Keefe Families - Madeleine L'Engle
Genre: Angels, Gen, Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverlight/pseuds/riverlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kitchen was cheerful and familiar: the table with its red checked tablecloth; the old cat Murphy curled up on his cushion by the stove; the potted paper-whites, their mother's latest attempt at domesticity, blooming prolifically and fragrantly in the window. It wrapped Meg in a comfortable feeling of <i>home </i>that her and and Calvin's place still hadn't managed to emulate, but even so, she felt a little frisson of foreboding. "I wish Mother were here," she said. "I have this feeling that something's about to happen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels Unawares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sprat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprat/gifts).



The glass panes of the old windows rattled in their frames, and a cold draft rustled the curtains.

Standing at the stove, Meg Murry shivered. There was a sound to the wind moaning in the chimney that she didn't like. She was all for winter storms, but right now she'd really rather her parents and siblings—and Calvin—were home. Blizzards were only fun when everyone was safe inside, curled up by the fire.

"Do you know where Mother is?" Charles Wallace asked, coming into the kitchen. Their mother had once speculated that Charles would grow out of his apparent ability to catch others' thoughts once he reached puberty, but so far, Meg hadn't seen any sign of it. "I think we're going to have a real storm tonight."

Meg stirred the spaghetti. "I was just thinking that. I haven't seen her, or Father, or the twins. I hope the roads aren't too bad; they were beginning to ice up while I was coming home. Could you make a salad, please, Charles?"

"Dressing, too?"

"Please."

Charles Wallace pulled the vegetables out of the fridge and piled them on the counter. Meg glanced out the window, where the snow was beginning to swirl, and went to the closet to pull on a sweater. "I wouldn't worry, except that I've had the strangest feeling all day that something was wrong," she said. "Except that's ridiculous, isn't it?"

Charles Wallace glanced up from his chopping. "Not necessarily," he said. "Stranger things have happened, Meg, as you well know."

She shivered. "That's hardly reassuring." Outside, one of the shutters banged in the wind, and she jumped. "See?" she said. "I'm all on edge tonight."

Charles' reply was drowned out by the crash of the door to their mother's lab, and Sandy and Dennys burst into the kitchen. "Brrr," Sandy said, unwinding his scarf. "It's cold out there. Hey, Meg. Good to see you. "

"Hey, Meg," Dennys said. "That smells good. What's for dinner? I'm starved." He dumped his bag in the corner and shucked off his boots.

"Thanks." Meg leaned into Dennys' hug. "It's good to be home. Dinner's spaghetti and sauce and salad, though I was going to wait for Mother before I put the pasta on, if you don't mind."

Sandy grabbed a stack of plates. "I don't mind waiting, though I think it's just us and Calvin, Meg, if he's coming. Father's in LA again."

"Again?" Meg sighed. "What's the point of this high-powered job of his if he's never home with his family? And where's Mother?"

"He'll be home for Christmas, at least," Dennys said cheerfully, setting out the silverware. "Mother's at the hospital with Dr. Louise; she left a note earlier to say we shouldn't wait dinner. Sorry, Meg, did you say Calvin was coming, or not?"

An errant draft stirred her hair, and Meg shivered. "He'll be here after dinner; he had a late class," she said. "I suppose I'll put the pasta on, though it's never as good when it's cold." She set a pot of water on to boil.

The kitchen was cheerful and familiar: the table with its red checked tablecloth; the old cat Murphy curled up on his cushion by the stove; the potted paper-whites, their mother's latest attempt at domesticity, blooming prolifically and fragrantly in the window. It wrapped her in a comfortable feeling of _home_ that her and and Calvin's place still hadn't managed to emulate, but even so, she felt a little frisson of foreboding. "I wish Mother were here," she said. "I have this feeling that something's about to happen."

Sandy was struggling with a bottle of wine. "You know, living in this family has entirely taken away my ability to believe only in the reality of things I can touch, what with your presentiments, Meg, and your mind-reading, Charles."

Charles Wallace smiled gravely. "And your time travel."

"And our time travel," Sandy agreed. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, just surreal, sometimes, that's all. Do you think it's to do with Dr. Louise, Meg?" He handed her a wineglass.

"Dr. Louise?" Meg asked sharply. "What's wrong with Dr. Louise?"

"They're afraid she has cancer," Charles Wallace spoke up, calmly, like it was nothing at all. "That's why Mother's at the hospital. They didn't want to tell you until they were sure."

Meg dropped the ladle she was holding with a clatter. "Cancer? Oh, God." She felt tears prickling behind her eyes. "Why didn't you _tell_ me? I _knew_ something bad was going to happen!"

"Meg." Charles Wallace took the pasta from her and set it on the table. "Don't be angry."

"We're all scared, Meg. We love Dr. Louise," Sandy said.

"She's like a second mother to us," Dennys agreed. "And you know she's Mother's best friend."

"But there's no point in worrying about it until we hear for sure," Sandy said practically. "Come on, let's eat."

They linked hands. "Give us Thy harmony, oh Lord," Charles Wallace began, and Sandy and Dennys joined in: "That we may understand the beauty of the skies; the rhythm of the soft wind's lullabies; the sun and shadows of the woods in spring…" By the time they got to "and Thy great love that dwells in everything," Meg had added her voice to the familiar grace.

Charles Wallace smiled at her across the table. "It'll be okay, Meg," he said.

"Oh, I know, it always is, really, isn't it?" Meg said, trying to smile. "I'm not angry at you, Charles. It's just—well, it seems awfully unfair, doesn't it, that someone like Dr. Louise should get sick? She's a good person; I mean, she's a really really _good_ human being."

"Oh come on, Meg," Sandy said. "That's not how it works; you know that. 'The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike,' remember?"

"Besides," Dennys said, helping himself to a bowlful of salad. "Think of it this way: if you want free will, you have to accept that sometimes bad things happen. Either you chose to, oh, I don't know, fall in love with Calvin, or study biology, or eat pasta for dinner—or God predestined it from the beginning. But you can't have it both ways."

"I didn't choose to fall in love with Calvin, it just happened," Meg said, choosing to ignore Dennys' point. "And I wish he were here; I don't like the sound of the wind." She shivered.

"You know what I mean, Meg," Dennys said patiently. "Things like cancer are the shadow side of a world allowed to create itself."

"Or a world which we're helping create, perhaps?" Sandy asked. "'Laborers in the vineyards of the Lord?'"

"Exactly." Dennys smiled at his twin.

"I should know better than to try to argue with you," Meg sighed. "But what's the point? Here we have this free will, and what are we doing with it? Father's off trying to stop a war, because we keep on killing each other, and Mother knows there is life on other planets, but doesn't dare say anything, because she'll be laughed out of the scientific community. We're so behind, it hardly even seems worth trying to make a difference. "

"Sure, we make mistakes," Dennys said, pushing his plate away. "That's part of being human, part of life on this planet. But we also have the chance to make things beautiful, too."

"Meg." Charles Wallace leaned across the table to catch her eye. "I was speaking to Mother once, and she said that no matter how much time she spends in the lab, no matter how much she's able to break matter apart into its constituent pieces, she always tries to remember that the universe is like a painting, and there's something of value in being able to see the whole picture. That sometimes you have to look at the whole picture to be able to understand anything at all." Outside, the door to the lab banged on its hinges, punctuating Charles' words.

"So you're telling me it comes down to faith? Faith that the universe is good, faith that somehow there is meaning to all this?" Meg said, sighing. "I'm a scientist, Charles, I have a hard time with faith."

"Mother's a scientist, too," Sandy pointed out, sliding the plates into the dishpan with a splash. "She believes in God." The door to the lab opened with a bang, and their mother blew into the kitchen on a gust of cold air and woodsmoke. "Don't you, Mother?" Sandy added.

Charles Wallace, who had gotten up to put a log in the woodstove, fell to his knees.

Meg gasped.

Behind their mother stood a figure wrapped in robes made of light and the luminous blue-green-gold shimmer of wings, a figure who shone with such radiance that Meg had to avert her eyes.

"I do believe in God, my darlings," said their mother, into the sudden hushed stillness. "After all," she smiled gently, "what are science and religion but two sides of the same coin, and who is God but the nucleus of the atom called love?"

"Love," Meg said. She could feel tears pouring down her face. "Oh, mother..."

The angel—for of course it was an angel—smiled, and his smile, too, was love. He didn't speak, and yet Meg heard the words as clearly as if he had, his voice like the rustling of feathers. _Fear not,_ he said, and his voice was like the chiming of bells. _Fear not, my children. I am sent to tell thee that all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well._

Meg drew a shaky breath. "Sir..." Dennys began.

The angel smiled, a grave, brilliant smile. _That is all,_ he said, his voice like music. _Fear not, and know that thou art loved._ And as suddenly as he had appeared he was gone, disappearing in a shimmering wash of light.

"Was that—" Dennys said, his voice cracking, at the same time Sandy started, "Oh, Mother—" and then fell silent.

Charles Wallace broke the silence. "How is Dr. Louise, Mother?"

"I think," Mrs. Murry murmured, "that we can safely say she will be all right." She collapsed into a chair and ran a shaking hand through her hair. "Could someone hand Meg a handkerchief, please?"

"Oh, God," Meg managed, "and to think I thought that something _bad_ was going to happen." The deep peace the angel had engendered with his presence still suffused every molecule of her being.

Dennys laughed, joyfully. "That'll teach me to listen to your premonitions, Meg."

"Can I get you some pasta, Mother?" Sandy asked. He was beaming; they all were. He glanced out the window, where the snow was piling on the windowsill. "I hope Calvin gets here soon. The snow's pretty deep out there."

"Speak of the devil," Charles Wallace said, smiling at Meg; Calvin's headlights were sweeping up the driveway.

Meg straightened her sweater and ran a quick hand through her hair. "Hey, the house!" Calvin called from the porch, blowing into the house in a swirl of icy air. "God, it's good to be here," he said, shaking the snow from his jacket. "It's icy out there!"

Meg threw herself into his arms."Oh, Cal, I'm so glad you're all right!"

"Me too, Meg, me too," he said. "I was about a mile from your place when I almost went off the road, and hoo boy, I thought for a moment I wasn't going to make it. Except then the strangest thing happened—" He cut off and peered at her face, rubbing a thumb across the tear-marks on her cheeks. "Hey, what happened? Meg, are you all right?"

Meg buried her head in his neck, so glad to see him she couldn't speak for a moment. "We had a strange experience ourselves," Charles Wallace answered for her. "Tell us about yours first, though."

"All right, if you want," Calvin said, puzzled. "Well, I was driving along when I hit a patch of ice—"

Meg knew it before he said it, knew it the way she'd known, earlier, that something was going to happen. "And you saw a light." She finished his sentence. "Right?"

"Like a star, or something," Calvin said. "Bright as anything. And it was the oddest thing; I suddenly felt completely safe—Why, Meg, what's the matter?" She'd burst into tears again.

Mrs. Murry laughed. "Why don't you sit and have some spaghetti, Calvin?" she suggested. "And we'll tell you all about it."

"That sounds great," Cal agreed. "Boy, am I glad to be home." He gave Meg's shoulders a squeeze.

In the woodstove, a log crackled, sending up a shower of sparks, and the cat turned a circle on his cushion, settling down again to sleep. Meg smiled. _Peace,_ she thought. _My family is home, and safe. Outside it is cold and dark, but we're all here together. I suppose that is all anyone can ask for, in this life—peace, and love—_

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo, boy, I have a lot of notes for this one. First and foremost, huge thanks are due to k8thegr81011 and embracepassion, without whose cheerleading, enthusiasm, and indulgence—especially indulgence!—this story wouldn't have been written. And thanks to Kate for the beta as well.
> 
> Credit where credit is due: the quotes, of course, are Biblical, as is the title (though I admit to shamelessly stealing that from Zenna Henderson; count it as homage!) The Murry's grace is from the School of Organic Education, Fairhope, Alabama. "God is the nucleus of the atom called love" is from Mary Summer Rain. "All manner of things shall be well" is Julian of Norwich. And the bits about the universe being like a painting were from some wonderful scholar featured on Krista Tippett's _Speaking of Faith_ radio program, though God only knows who, as I cannot remember any longer.
> 
> Sprat—thanks for this! I hope you enjoyed this half as much as I did; it was a blast to write.


End file.
